


Illumined Consciousness (the So Bright I Gotta Wear Shades Remix)

by eve11



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-12
Updated: 2011-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-20 08:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eve11/pseuds/eve11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turlough would recognize that mad, manic grin anywhere. This was the Doctor, all right, and the way he was smiling, something terrible had happened. Drabble remix written for the Fandom stocking 2009 exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Illumined Consciousness (the So Bright I Gotta Wear Shades Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Illumined Consciousness](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/3546) by vandonovan. 



"The Doctor?" Vislor Turlough blinked at the gangly man on his doorstep. Everything was unfamiliar--the short dark hair, the lined face, blue eyes colder than he ever remembered, and the stark black leather coat looking worn and battered in the bright sun. " _The_ Doctor?"

"The definite article, indeed. You look fantastic."

Turlough would recognize that mad, manic grin anywhere. This was the Doctor, all right, and the way he was smiling, something terrible had happened. The smile turned to a wince, and Turlough caught the other man as he sagged in the doorway.

 _That's just like him, to wait for a crisis to come see me. Why now?_ The thought surfaced with old, unpleasant memories of exile and manipulation as Turlough guided the Doctor inside toward the sitting room. It was a remnant of the person Turlough used to be, nothing more. He swept it aside with a grim joke--"Not sure I'm so fond of tall regenerations"--wrestling the weight of weary limbs to settle the Doctor on the sofa.

"Is it bad? I haven’t seen yet."

The sad half-smile was worse than the madman's grin. The Doctor had worn his hearts on his sleeve when Turlough traveled with him, and it didn't suit this incarnation at all. Turlough shuddered inwardly; he knew it wasn't fair, but he couldn't stop the feeling, like he'd lost out on more than lifetimes.

 _How long had it been?_

He hesitated. He asked. "Doctor, are you all right?"

"No. No, I'm not."

In the bright afternoon, Turlough listened to a tale of war, death and destruction on an unimaginable scale, recounted on a threadbare sofa in his sitting room. And in the ebb of the storm, the Doctor could have visited Terminus, to see Nyssa, who knew what it was like to lose her entire world. He could have chosen Earth or the Eye of Orion. Instead here was the pair of them, the Doctor's bowed head at the curve of Turlough's neck, the distance between them a year or a century, or nothing at all.

 _But it's you, Vislor Turlough._ The thought surfaced, and Turlough knew it was petty and small and wrong; they had loved each other across lifetimes. Still, the thought surfaced, and Turlough ran a hand through the Doctor's shorn locks, hoping touch would turn it away.

 _You're the one who understands betrayal._


End file.
